Friend, Lover, Lifetime Companion
by Shatterwing
Summary: Various bits and pieces that make up their lives and the relationship that defines them both. Kirk/Spock. Slashy, implied or otherwise.
1. An Unthinkable Gift

Author's Note: Another drabble that got in my head and wouldn't let me rest until I posted it.  
Inspired by watching the movie for the hundredth time and the scene with SpockPrime on Delta Vega.  
Still no Beta, let me know if I missed anything majorly f-ed up.

Disclaimer: Not mine… I'll let you know if that changes.

* * *

Spock was no longer in his prime. He was cold and tired, weighted down by agonizing failure but he was unwaveringly strong in his mental capacities.

_(James T. Kirk)_

He could have melded with this raw edged younger version of Jim with out letting him 'hear' the echoes of a bond, a love, that had been severed so long ago.  
Spock was uncommonly gifted for a Vulcan, he'd managed to meld through a wall once, in long past golden days.  
It would have been simple to pass along the necessary memories without expressing the enduring depths of his faith and unbending devotion.

And yet…Spock was no longer in his prime. He was old and tired, weighted down by agonizing loss even as he was filled with disbelieving joy and growing hope.

_(… How did you find me?)_

He melded with this strange, heart-wrenchingly familiar, mind and saw terrible loneliness and a horrifyingly isolated, loveless childhood.  
Spock was strong, well versed in suppressing his own emotional responses but Jim had always, in any universe it seemed, been able to break through that control.

_(I have been and always shall be, your friend.)_

So Spock made a choice, and it was simple.

He gave the memories and information carefully, holding tightly to everything else.

He ruthlessly locked away his more cherished memories and private thoughts. He refused to think of the time he'd spent on board the Enterprise, with _his_ Jim.  
But as he touched Jim's mind he gave it a gentle, painfully familiar, caress, and gave him one glimpse.

It was an almost unthinkable gift.

_(I am Spock)_

A glimpse of endless friendship, unwavering devotion and unparalleled love.

Spock knew that he had no right to show _this_ Jim these things. This time line, this entire universe, was different.  
Almost everything had been irrevocably changed… but it was _Jim_.  
A mangled reality's unfamiliar, yet breathtakingly similar, James T. Kirk... and this Jim_ needed_ the reassurance that only this Spock could give.

It seems that Spock was incapable of denying Jim, of any universe, anything but he limited himself, his caress, his impression on a beloved golden mind, to a heartbeats worth.

'_T'hy'la.'_

No more.

As the meld broke, all Spock could do was hope that his younger self had the same chance.

To bond with, to live with, to love someone as precious as James T. Kirk.

* * *

Reviews always appreciated, Flames will be used to roast marshmallows. : )


	2. A Touch of Destiny

Author's Note: So another drabble, this one kept me awake until I posted so forgive the sleep deluded state this was posted in.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Kirk and Spock would have totally gotten it on by now if I did.

* * *

What Spock hadn't realized, what most alien species didn't realize in the beginning, was that every so often humans were born as something more.

There was no name for the attribute, as rare and special as these people were but all humans instinctively knew that sometimes, every couple generations, a human would be born into greatness. Their names would be recorded in history, their lives documented and preserved as beacons of accomplishment and glory.  
They carried a sense of that greatness around them all their lives and other humans could recognize the sense of it.  
Many would attempt to touch it, irresistibly drawn, trying to bring some of that greatness into themselves.  
Others would attempt to squelch the light of greatness, jealousy and insecurity making them cruel.

Regardless of individual reactions, every human knew when their lives were touched by greatness.

What Spock didn't realize in the beginning, what most of the human complement of the crew knew instinctively, was that James T. Kirk was one of those rare, special humans.  
The crew members who saw the greatness in him knew because his eyes were too blue, surreal in their sheer intensity and fire. The crew knew because his voice was strong almost mesmerizing, compelling and driving them when panic and fear should have rung true.  
The crew of the Enterprise knew because Captain Kirk, who insisted that they call him Jim, filled the ship with his presence. Because he invited unbreakable confidence and earned it from all of the varied and unique members of his crew. They knew it because he was instinctive, brilliant, and confident. He was also reckless, immature, and sometimes painfully insecure, yet somehow these flaws made him all more perfect. His crew knew because his smile and laughter murmured subconscious signals to them of light, warmth and safety.

All Spock knew was that the Captain made illogical brash emotionalism seem like an act of genius.  
Spock knew that Captain Kirk carried himself with near tangible strength, determination and possessed a subtle, grossly underestimated, intelligence.  
Spock knew the irresistible draw, his human half silently pulling him to stand where ever James T. Kirk stood.  
That his Captain's smile could light up a room, as illogical as that sounded. He was beginning to realize that Jim's laughter was golden and spread unreasonable warmth through the air.

Spock knew the unbearable urge to touch his Captain.

His Vulcan upbringing at constant war with the very human desire to touch, to feel and understand that illogical intangible lightness, golden laughter driving him ever further into confusion.

* * *

Reviews feed my soul.


	3. Fighting

Author's Note:

So this one has been rolling around my brain for a while. May be continued, depends on what kind of feedback I get (hint hint: REVIEW)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

It was one thing to know intellectually that Captain Kirk knew how to fight. It was another matter entirely to watch him. Spock never thought he'd see his Captain partake in a bar brawl, for multiple reasons in this particular case.

Primarily, the odds were obviously against him. One man against three humans build like Klingons and obviously very angry individuals.  
However Spock had to take into account that Kirk seemed to like the odds being against him.

Secondly Captain Kirk was slightly inebriated, his reflexes and balance should have been degraded. Should have been, Spock could see that they were not as the fight proceeded.

Third, Such violence was to be avoided by Starfleet personnel But Spock found very quickly this was not the case for one James T. Kirk.

"Have you ever seen him get into a fight?"

"Affirmative. I am certain that you would recall the various circumstances..."

Nyota's eye's narrowed, a facial expression that Spock had learned to associate with growing frustration.  
It was an expression that many aboard the Enterprise had learned to fear. The relationship between them had ended amicably yet Spock had noticed a growing, and incomprehensible, trend of irritation and sharpness in her voice and facial features when the subject of James T. Kirk came up. Her tone was not quite sharp as she interrupted.

"I'm beginning to believe you're being purposefully obtuse."

McCoy's low growl erupted from the doorway.

"I'll clarify for your overly precise brain, pointy eared bastard. Have you ever observed James T. Kirk involved in a bar brawl?"

"…No, I have not. I do not anticipate being afforded the opportunity at any time in the near future."

Nyota's voice was clear, decisive, but full of understanding and contemplation.

"You'd think that wouldn't you. From suspended cadet to captain of the flagship in three days. Years of exceptional behavior as Captain, but the thing about Kirk is that he doesn't change. He stays the same, it's your perception that changes around him."

"I fail to see the point to this line of inquiry."

"Another line, perhaps? What is your opinion of the Captain physically?"

"Objectively, there is nothing about the Captain that is physically displeasing. He also possesses many traits which humans find attractive."

Spock's voice managed to be both completely monotone, and immeasurably bored. Detached and coldly scientific as he recited his practiced evaluation.

"You didn't answer the question, Mr. Spock. The lady didn't ask for a scientist's opinion, she asked for yours personally. Do you… Dammit, I can't _believe_ you roped me into this, Uhura..."

McCoy's face contorted in to a uniformly disgusted scowl as he spat out his next sentence, his glaze focused sharply on the floor as if wishing it could swallow him.

"Do _you _find him attractive?"

Spock's true and unfiltered opinion came to the forefront of his mind.

There was very little that was objective, detached or scientific about it.

Jim, James, His Captain, Kirk.  
Not quite perfect in the Vulcan ideal of symmetry, but the infinite variations in expressions rendered his face inescapably captivating. Not quite flawless, two and a half decades of life had left their marks, but the faint, chaotically patterned, scaring somehow made his golden pale skin more desirable.

James Kirk was an exquisite physical specimen of humanity.  
From sky blue eyes and golden skin to starkly developed musculature and refined bone structure.

Spock found that he was not able to answer the curious communications officer and the irritated doctor.

* * *

Spock did get his opportunity.

In a near complete accident of circumstances, unbeknown to Jim, Spock was present for one of the most spectacular bar fights in which James T. Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, had ever taken part of.

The first thing that Spock's mind cataloged, beyond the complete chaos, was the smile.

Kirk smiled as the punches flew, his face splitting in an admittedly blood thirsty expression for a human. He ducked quickly and in an almost disturbingly graceful move his leg swung out and knocked down the first of his opponents. His body rose and fists flew as he dodged and spun. Spock finally understood why Dr. McCoy and Nyota had been so adamant. Spock had seen Kirk fight for his life, or the lives of others. He had never seen him fight for no honest reason but for the whole-heartedly illogical 'thrill' of it.

There was a difference. A subtle overwhelming astonishing difference.

James Kirk's body was a finely tuned machine of inflicted pain and self-defense, Spock had know this for a prolonged period of time.  
But this… This was something entirely different.

It was horrifying and distasteful, powerful and demeaning, beautiful and glorious, so many wonderful illogical things, to watch Kirk move through the fight, this illogical and unnecessary fight. Every move and muscle loosely controlled, limbs moving in motions that looked as easy as breathing. An unsuppressed chill possessed Spock's spine, as goose bumps raised all over his body. Denial tried to seep into his thoughts as he fought for control of his physical reaction, but it was useless.

Suddenly, Spock understood what McCoy and Uhura had been alluding to, in their illogical and completely misunderstood questioning.

Blood streaked and brawling, it seemed that James T. Kirk radiated magnetic, visceral, _undeniable_ appeal.

His grace and skill were unbelievable, but even Kirk, focused and smiling, couldn't avoid three pairs of fists. The soft sound of a fist hitting flesh sounded almost like an explosion to Spock's acute hearing. Kirk spun around, only to be met in the ribs with another harsh blow. Down he went, several kicks find their marks as he goes down, and Spock doesn't react.  
Too stunned by his own private realizations to do much of anything for a second.

That second was all it took for Kirk to leap back to his feet, his body arcing like lightening as his fists and foot alternately disabled his three opponents. Blood smearing down his face, that smile never left and the almost surreal blue of his eyes was heightened in the deep and untroubled focus the vicious fight demanded. The sound of bodies falling, heavy and unburdened by consciousness, seemed to deflate the smile.

A sudden quiet descended, and Spock found that he was trembling, suppressed violence tearing at his projected calm.  
These people dared to lay a hand on _His_ Captain, dared to make his blood stain the floors of this dark dingy tavern, dared to touch what was his. Time slowed to a crawl as Jim stood straight and proud in the center of the brawl, his eyes wandering almost lazily through the room to meet Spock's. The light in James' eyes stayed, unwavering and compelling, driving up instincts that Spock didn't know he possessed.

Ancient and long silent instincts, screaming in glorious acclaim at the unrestrained feral power of the blood streaked beauty before him.


	4. Beyond the Rainbow

Author's Note: Ok, so this grabbed hold of my brain with fifteen hands and shook me until it was written. Takes place sometime before the "Car chase that ends in the quarry' part of the movie. No beta, any mistakes are just mine. Please review. I've no idea what you readers will think of this one.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. C.B.S. studios, does. Don't sue me. Lyrics are from "The Wizard of Oz", which coincidentally I don't own either. So again, Don't sue.

* * *

_Somewhere over the rainbow_

_Way up high,_

Iowa is empty. Vast empty space lined with dusty roads, endless corn fields, and the never ending arc of the horizon. Storms roll in and bluster, drenching the roads into mire, and blowing the corn every which way, but the horizon never wavers. It's always there.

_There's a land that I heard of_

_Once in a lullaby._

Jimmy Kirk is nine years old, almost ten. Too smart for his own good and utterly lonely. Jimmy doesn't have friends in Iowa. He's got bullies and people who can't be bothered to look at him. He's nine, going on ten, too smart and he doesn't wonder why he's not invited to George's birthday party.

_Somewhere over the rainbow_

_Skies are blue,_

So, while George fills up the house and barn with friends and laughter, Frank grumbles and ignores everything from the sofa and Jimmy walks the straight empty road, safely out of sight and out of mind. He's not aimless, his goal is the end, the blurred line at the end of the dirt path. The horizon whispering unheard answers to his unconscious wishing.

_And the dreams that you dare to dream_

_Really do come true._

He doesn't know exactly what he's wishing for, maybe for his mother to come home and look at his face without wincing. For his older brother to care about him and stop looking at him like he's scum. For Frank to stop, just stop. Stop hating him, stop drinking, stop breathing. Wishing, without knowing it, for a real father that isn't a hero, isn't dead somewhere in space. Wishing that he knew what was wrong with his family.

_Someday I'll wish upon a star_

_And wake up where the clouds are far…Behind me._

He wanders and wishes, until his feet hurt The sun is starting to set and he's sure that this is as far away from home as he's ever been. And still, the horizon isn't any closer. The glowing border between his world and what lies beyond a vivid unending streak. Suddenly reminding him of sunrise and sunset, of stars to come and his mother's fervent devoted gaze unwavering as she stared away from him. The horizon suddenly holds everything his young heart can dream of. Jimmy feels like the horizon is taunting him. The whole broad blue sky holding him down and reminding him of everything he's never known.

_Where troubles melt like lemon drops_

_Away above the chimney tops_

Everything he's never known, but knows exists.

Everything, he knows somewhere deep down, was _supposed_ to be his. His mom looking into his eyes without pain, his brother loving and teasing like all the older brother's are supposed to, Frank shouldn't be here, shouldn't exist in his life, and his father… His dad should have been here.  
Should have been there for everything, his first birthday, his first steps, his first day of school.

_  
That's where you'll find me._

Jim Kirk, nine years old going on ten, suddenly and irreversibly knows that something was wrong with this world he's living in.  
Too young, and too smart.  
His young quick mind, swiftly connects all the dots he has and comes up with an answer that shouldn't make any sense but it makes too much sense to him.

_Somewhere over the rainbow_

_Bluebirds fly._

He's the problem.  
He's the part that makes the difference, he's the part that's wrong and makes his mom leave and Frank drink, He's the reason George lost his dad, the father that gave his life for Jim's.  
That thought, that realization, slams into him with all the power of a warp drive. For one terrible second, he can't breath past the tears that clog his throat, the ferocious cry of _**'Not Fair' **_that wants to scream out of him mouth.

_Birds fly over the rainbow._

He sits on the dirt road for a long, gasping moment. Broken and shuttered sobs ripping out of him. That's the last moment he's Jimmy Kirk, quiet, smart, respectful kid. Jimmy dies on a lonely dirt road. Slowly his shoulders still, his eyes wet as he pulls his knees to his chest and remains in the road, drained and empty of everything. Suddenly numb, now that he knows that he's never going to be good enough to get their love.

_Why then, oh why can't I?_

The sun sets entirely as a lonely and tired Kirk picks himself up. His eyes locked onto the first star peaking out from the horizon. Buzzing numbness seems to have settled into his chest as all the stars come out. He's suddenly not sad anymore, he's not anything anymore, and because of that, he doesn't have to be anything to anyone ever again. He turns his back to the stars and walks mindlessly back to the house that's not home. Jimmy Kirk is dead and he doesn't know who he's gonna be now.

_If happy little bluebirds fly_

He gets home well after the party has concluded. Well after George has snuck out of his window to sleep somewhere else, and probably just after Frank has passed out on the sofa. He doesn't even spare a glance at the living room, just walks with the same mindless steps up into his room.

_Beyond the rainbow_

Tomorrow is another day. He'll be something, anything, tomorrow.  
Right now, he's nothing. He's hollowed out and Jimmy Kirk is dead. He's asleep within moments of hitting his bed, fully dressed and dusty.

_Why, oh why can't I?_

Tonight he'll dream of falling. He'll have a nightmare of being alone and helpless in free fall, for the first time...

James T. Kirk will have that dream of falling for the next seventeen years.

* * *

Please review, and let me know what you think. I'm quite unsure about this one, I need feedback. :)


	5. Perception

Author's Note. I'm not dead! How awesome is that? Sorry about the wait, but RL is a bitch like that and my muse decided to take a long long vacation. No beta on this, any mistakes here are my own. Oh, in other news I'm raising the rating on this series to M. There shouldn't be anything too explicit popping up anytime soon but I'd like to inform y'all that it could happen at some point in the future.

Disclaimer: If I owned Star Trek, there would be full cast re-enactments of prompts from st_xi_kink_meme. As we don't even get Spock shirtless in the new movie, I don't own anything.

* * *

Jim Kirk saw the world in a fascinating way.

It wasn't that he lived in a fantasy, as many people might have assumed, far from it.

Spock had spent enough time aboard the Enterprise with his captain to know.

If a situation was regrettable, foreseeable and avoidable, yet still managed to come to pass. Captain Kirk would be angry, frustrated with whomever he deemed responsible. He would call the situation 'fucked up' and proceed to wring whatever favorable results he could from it.

If a situation that was unforeseeable, unavoidable and unpleasant, came to pass. Kirk would say nothing, his eyebrows would come together, his full smiling lips would take a firm downturn, but his actions would speak for his deep discontent as he tried to make sense of the situation.

And if either situation erupted into unbridled chaos, Kirk's eyes would shine with some internal light as he defied logic, reason and the universe in general, in order to save his crew and his ship. And he would smile as he did it, a slight upturn of those lips. As if Kirk was daring logic, reason or the universe to stand against him.

It was fascinating.

The way Jim Kirk saw people was intriguing, in a similar fashion.

Spock observed him in enough social settings to begin to understand that, in the world according to Jim Kirk, there were several distinct classifications that the people around him fell into.

There was his crew, appreciated, defended and protected on a broad scale by the captain.

Spock come to realize, after several away mission that ended badly for several red uniformed personnel, the depths of his captain's feelings towards those who served under his command. It was almost astonishing the strength of how Kirk felt towards them. The pride and affection, the protectiveness, an intensity of emotion and a unhampered sense of responsibility that Spock would not have expected from the cadet that had first taken over the Enterprise.

There was the 'Bridge Crew', a narrower sub-category that seemed to hold Ensign Chekov, Lieutenant Sulu, and Lieutenant Uhura. This seemed to be a higher level of trust, affection, and appreciation. There was more interaction between the bridge crew and the captain, Spock reasoned, and that was the nature of the deeper, more individualized, emotional attachment. His logic was sound, but could not account for Kirk's attachment to his chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott. That bond seemed to be wholly formed from their, deeply illogical, mutually enamored state with regards to the Enterprise.

Then there was Dr. Leonard H. McCoy.

Spock's understanding of the relationship between the captain and chief medical officer was limited and deeply confused. It was a mutual emotional attachment that was obvious in McCoy's overbearing concern, and Kirk's consistent pattern of seeking McCoy out for companionship. However the intrinsically antagonistic nature of their interactions did not fall into what Spock understood as the classification of 'friend'.

It was fascinating.

There may have been some emotion, deeply and as thoroughly suppressed as it may be, distorting his perspective, but the most fascinating thing Spock found out about his captain was the way the human viewed his first officer.

Spock had assumed that his categorization would have been with the 'bridge crew' as that was the location that they primarily interacted.

Perhaps not even that level of open camaraderie, Spock had not gone out of his way to 'make friends' with his commanding officer. He doubted that Kirk, emotional and illogical being that he was, could form an emotional attachment based on professional interactions or limited and primarily confrontational personal interactions.

Whatever Spock thought his standing was with the captain, it was clarified, irrevocably and unmistakably clarified, a little more then a year after the Enterprise had first set sail under Captain Kirk's command.

It wasn't a proper mind-meld, it was a complete and total accident.

Spock's hand had come to rest on Kirk's forehead, a carefully calculated human gesture that was meant to comfort the injured and almost unconscious Captain, hopefully getting him to stop thrashing around in a fever induced haze.

The thrilling electricity of contact was a fleeting warning, but it was already too late. Before Spock could even comprehend what was happening strong, lifelong mental shields dropped, dissolving in a unhampered and illogically easy rush. Telepathic senses darting out from his fingers, touching Kirk's mind, and underneath pain and unceasing worry for the other members of the away team, Spock caught a glimpse of himself from Jim's mind.

It wasn't like Vulcans who found out who he was, immediately thought of his mother, and saw a creature of two worlds trying to be a Vulcan.  
It certainly wasn't like most humans who looked at him and saw a perfect Vulcan. A logical machine with no thought towards emotions, capable of great math, science and logic but not much else.

No, to Kirk, Spock was neither implicitly human or extraordinarily Vulcan. He was neither a failure or a paragon.

To him, Spock simply was.

No judgments. No stereotyped opinions, no expectations of neutral behavior, just Spock.

Just the unbending and hard won title of 'friend' that was searing and bright. A glowing inarticulate belief that Spock would always be there to catch him if he fell. Solid and unwavering faith in Spock's intelligence and loyalty.

Spock was so taken aback by this blinding perception of himself that he abruptly broke the hardly formed meld.

* * *

Spock's mind retreated before he noticed the desolate corner of Jim's mind that was wholly preoccupied with adoring Spock in a far less platonic way. The hidden part that gloried in Spock's intelligence and savored every word that he said, even if he was calling Jim a illogical emotional idiot. The meld was broken before Spock could find the aching, and mostly ignored, part of Jim's mind that noticed the smooth planes of Spock's body, the alien strength and grace that moved him effortlessly, the breathtaking line that ran from the tip of one pointed ear to the strong shape of his jaw. Spock didn't get to see the dark and consuming jealousy that his captain had at one point harbored towards Nyota. Didn't see the effort and energy spent making sure that all of this, Jim's desire, affection, adoration and hopeless infatuation, was deeply hidden and completely suppressed.

Spock didn't see the desperate, emotionally painful resolution that Jim made, forcing himself into accepting the idea that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

_(It was an odd sort of pain, stabbing and wistful, for Jim to disregard the idea of having complete, unconditional love. He knew that his mother should have loved him like that, but she didn't, too broken and haunted by the ghost of his father. He didn't know what it would be like, to be loved like the memories that weren't his told him 'T'hy'la' would be. Jim told himself he didn't even know what the damned word meant. It shouldn't hurt too much to disregard a word you didn't know… but it did._ '_T'hy'la' was not going to be his and that was that. But it hurt, a lot.) _

The deep bond, that the other Spock had cherished through a century of life, and unwittingly impressed on Jim's mind, was not going to be his in this reality.  
So Jim threw out the idea, redirecting his affection and desire into enjoying Spock's company and their slowly growing friendship.

It was perpetual emotional agony for someone like Jim to live in denial, but somehow he managed spectacularly. Jim Kirk was nothing if not stubborn and willful.

Putting aside all other emotions and desires, Jim would always be Spock's friend. He would never expected anything more. He would never try for anything more, it would have to be enough, to have Spock as his first officer and friend.

The rest would have to stay, tightly repressed, unacknowledged and unknown, in a dark corner of Jim Kirk's mind.

* * *

Spock didn't see that in his glimpse of his captain's mind.

He saw only blinding faith and bright enduring friendship, and that was enough to nearly overwhelm him. Guilt flashed across his mental landscape immediately after he broke the mental contact, followed closely by a sense of bewilderment. How his shields had dropped that quickly was beyond him, yet Spock couldn't bring himself to regret what he'd perceived in that ever so brief glimpse.  
He had not expect Kirk to feel that way towards him, and the positive remembrance was enough to cause a small curl of quickly suppressed wonder to burst across his mind.

The lingering memory of the trust and acceptance in Kirk's mind was enough to make him want to seek out his captain off duty, to spend more time with him, to spend more time with someone who saw him in such a manner.

It was logical to spend time with a friend. So, he did.

Several days later, when the captain was released from Dr. McCoy's less then tender care, Spock went to Kirk's quarters and, after a few trivial questions about his captain's health, asked if he played chess. His answer was a laugh and a less then subtle point towards the tri-d chess set that was set up in one corner of the room.

The game that followed was engaging, but not nearly so satisfying as the conversation that flowed between them. As the match drew to a close, Spock closing in on Kirk's king with ruthlessly efficient logic, Kirk surprised Spock with a wide pleased smile that fairly overflowed with comfort and relaxation.  
It was illogical for someone who enjoyed victory so much to be pleased with losing.  
When Spock inquired about the reasoning behind the expression, all he got was a shrug as his captain made the move that would cost him the match. Spock's hand was reaching across the board but he looked away from the game to raise an eyebrow as he set down the move that would end the game.

Checkmate.

The same wide smile lit across Kirk's face as he looked over the board then up at Spock.

"I guess this just means we'll have to keep playing 'til I win a match."

"That could take quite some time, Captain. Are you aware of the fact that I was granted the title 'Grandmaster' by the Federation's Three dimensional Chess Organization?"

"Jim."

One slanted eyebrow lifted, again. This time Spock got a grin in return, a toothy cocky grin that flashed across his captain's face.

"My name is Jim. We're both off duty and if you're gonna kick my ass, the least you could do is call me my name while you do it. And yes, I knew that."

"In that case Jim, I would be quite willing to, as you said 'kick your ass', upon another occasion."

The smile that appeared in response was effervescent, broad and heartfelt, lighting up Jim's face in a manner he had not seen before.  
It was almost unsettling. How many possible ways were there for a human face to smile?

"Well it's settled then. Chess in my quarters after tomorrow's shift."

"Indeed."

Little did Spock know that they were setting a pattern, a habit, that would go on for decades.

* * *

If you're a wee bit curious about the title, look up the word 'perception'. It had a lot to do with what I wanted to express.

Reviews are lovely. They are little digital hugs that make me unbelievably happy.


End file.
